


Coming to Terms

by flashofthefuse



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:31:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6385711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashofthefuse/pseuds/flashofthefuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small story taking place immediately after Unnatural Habits and spanning through Murder Under the Mistletoe, in which Phryne's refusal to face her feelings, and tendency to act rashly, backfire on her, possibly ruining what she's begun to build with Jack Robinson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jack's Visit

**Author's Note:**

> This is my imagining of Phryne's struggles with the way she's feeling at the end of Unnatural Habits. I couldn't help but think she'd be scared of her feelings for Jack and might behave in an erratic and sometimes ill advised manner.

**Prologue**

**The Fallout**

“I’m sorry Jack,” she said.

“Be careful, Miss Fisher. You’ll make a habit of that.”

Phryne’s shoulders slumped and she sighed as she made her way back to her own automobile. He was angry with her, and she’d just apologized. Again. She wasn’t sure which of those things bothered her more. But, she’d brought this on herself.

Why couldn’t he be like other men? If only he’d act in a predictable manner, instead of surprising and confounding her at every turn, until she didn’t know which way was up. She’d been off-balance for days now, possibly months.

She brought her car to a stop in front of the garage. She’d driven all the way back to her home without being aware of it! Jack would be furious with her careless, distracted driving.

_Jack._

Her body flushed with an angry heat. That man was far too often in her thoughts. She’d been waking to find he’d been in her dreams as well. Then there was the song. The song that brought him to mind. She found herself playing it, repeatedly, in her parlor on nights he didn’t stop by. All of this was before that late night visit that had apparently driven her wholly into madness.

Today was not the first time acting without thinking had gotten her into trouble, but she was hard pressed to think of a time it had backfired quite so forcefully.

It was time for drastic measures. Time for something she actively avoided. Something she deemed incongruous with her chosen, live in the moment, consequences be damned lifestyle, but, there was no escaping it.

A rare moment of self-reflection was in order.

She poured herself a whiskey, kicked off her shoes and settled into the parlor window seat, tucking her feet up under her. Her mind returning to three days prior. As if on cue, it began to rain.

 _How overly melodramatic_ , she thought.

**Chapter 1 - Jack’s Visit**

_Three days earlier._

It had been one of the most despicable cases they’d ever worked, but they’d rescued those girls from a life of abuse and unspeakable horrors. The morally bereft men responsible would languish in prison, or hang. It was a job well done, but hardly satisfying.

She’d felt a deep sadness at the fresh reminder that such evil existed in the world, and Jack had been left disillusioned and pained by the fall of George Sanderson, a man he’d admired.

Jack was ten times the man that sniveling excuse for a human was, and yet Sanderson had sat there, in his blustering hubris, implying he could still get away with his scheming. It was outrageous, and all she could do to hold her tongue. But, he would get his comeuppance, she and Jack would see to that. Adrenaline had still coursed through her veins, when she looked back to see Jack holding Rosie in his arms, and felt the ground drop out from under her.

Before she could even process what that might mean, she returned home to find her home in upheaval. There was a newborn baby in her parlor, with Aunt P. and Dot fussing over the red, wriggling thing. She wanted peace, and time to think. She went to pour herself a drink and, out of habit, poured two glasses, going so far as to pick them both up and turn around before remembering that he wasn’t there with her. He was with someone else.

She combined the two drinks into one, and drank it down far too quickly. It burned her her throat and settled hotly in her belly. She hoped it would help to calm her racing thoughts as she headed up to bed. The quiet tap at the door had stopped her heart, the look of desire and need in his eyes sent it flying. When he’d gone, she’d needed to lean against the door to support her wobbly legs. She felt utterly besotted, and ridiculously happy.

No wondered she’d tipped over the edge. It was too many emotions, flooding her senses and overwhelming her finely honed sense of control.

_He’d come to her. He’d left Rosie, in her time of need, and come to her. That’s when the madness had begun._

_No_ , she admitted. _It had started well before that night._

She’d known that he cared for her. He’d told her as much that time he’d foolishly tried to separate from her. At that time, she’d decided his withdrawal wouldn’t be allowed. Phryne Fisher was the one to walk away when she saw fit, not the other way round. She had managed to bring about a detente, and slowly, they’d resumed normal relations.

She'd also, at that time, decided not to examine her own feelings too closely. His self-imposed exile had proved a challenge for her. Nothing more.

His feelings were his own, and not her responsibility. She didn’t want to know, nor had she tried to discover, if those feelings flowed both ways. She didn’t have romantic entanglements. Men had fallen in love with her before, and she’d learned to navigate through it without any hard feelings. It had been no different with Jack.

They’d gotten back on firm footing. They were investigative partners, and friends and that was how she liked it.

So, when had she allowed things to become so much more complicated? How had she gotten in so far over her head? It may have been building for some time, but her final descent began when he said those words.

_“Not always, Miss Fisher.”_

She lay awake late into the night, blaming the cries of the baby for her inability to find rest. In truth, her room was far from where the child slept, with two sets of heavy doors between them. Aunt P. and Dot were quick to settle the baby whenever he fussed. She only heard his cries because she was already awake. Awake, and indulging in a bit of fantasy.

_They were heading upstairs, she and Jack. They were heading upstairs to her bedroom, and it would be marvelous. She’d take him to her bed and they’d find comfort in each other’s bodies, filling their minds and senses with nothing but each other and forgetting the atrocities they’d witnessed that night._

_After such an encounter, she was generally happy to send her lover on his way, but there had been exceptions. She imagined Jack would be such an exception. He was the type of lover that would want to stay the night, and she thought she’d allow it. She would fall asleep beside him, listening to him breathe, and to the beat of his heart. He’d rise in the early dawn hours, kissing her sweetly and trying to slip out and avoid an encounter with members of her household. She would do her best to delay him, at least for a little while._

And then what?

What would have happened next? She couldn’t see it.

Would they go back to their usual routine? Would their relationship be altered by finally releasing the pent up sexual tension between them? Would he be expecting a committed relationship with her, or had his visit been brought on by a need for connection and release that would have been played out by morning?

She’d never spent this much time contemplating a sexual liaison in her life!

Eventually she drifted off to sleep. With a slightly clearer head the next morning she was almost glad her aunt, and that red-faced bundle had been there to delay them. Falling into bed with Jack Robinson was not something to be embarked upon imprudently, but it _was_ something to be embarked upon, and the sooner the better. Once some guidelines had been established.

She needed to see him again. Waiting for their next murder investigation was out of the question unless she wanted to run the risk of murdering someone herself.

She needed to know what he was thinking, and to plan her next move. Was he hoping for a lasting connection, or had it been a fleeting desire in the heat of the moment? Which would she prefer? She headed downstairs, formulating a plan in her mind as she went. She would find a reason to visit him, and if circumstances seemed favorable, invite him to dinner.


	2. Reconnaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne plans a covert trip to see Jack and ascertain his feelings.

Phryne sat in the parlor contemplating how best to call on Jack without tipping her hand. When Dot approached, she smiled, thinking for a moment, that fate might be on her side.

“May I ask a favor, miss?” Dot said. 

“Of course Dot. What is it?”

“Might I take some time away to have lunch with Hugh today?” Dot said.

“What a splendid idea. I’m sure after last night he would appreciate a home-cooked meal. I can even drive you to the station. I have a few loose ends to tie up with Inspector Robinson.”

“I won’t be going to the station,” Dot said apologetically. “After last night, the Inspector told Hugh to take the day off. Hugh was hoping I might be able to join him for a stroll along the shore, and a picnic lunch.”

“Oh,” Phryne said, trying to hide her disappointment, “that sounds lovely.”

“Then it’s all right if I take the time?”

“Yes, yes, take all the time you need. Take the whole of the afternoon. You deserve it.”

“Thank you miss!” Dot beamed.

Phryne smiled magnanimously, then frowned as soon as Dot had left the room. This was damned inconvenient. She couldn’t bring a luncheon basket to Jack without the excuse that Dot was already putting one together for Hugh. Her visit needed to look spontaneous.

Perhaps she should take a stroll, just to clear her head. If that stroll happened to take her by City South Station, and she were to poke her head in to say hello, well, it was only friendly. If she timed it right, she might even catch him on the sidewalk on his way to lunch, and be able to join him.

She walked quickly until she reached the block before the station, then slowed to a more contemplative pace. She turned the corner, and from a distance saw the door opening and a familiar trench coat swing into view. Her heart leapt and she began to congratulate herself on her impeccable timing, when he moved around to hold the door open and Rosie stepped out. She waited for him to come to her side before taking hold of his arm and they walked to his car. 

Phryne shrank back to hide from view and watched Jack steer his ex-wife to the passenger side and open the door for her. Rosie turned and placed her palm flat against his chest and smiled up at him. She said something that earned her a warm smile in return. It was a smile Phryne recognized, even at a distance, and the sight of another woman on the receiving end of it left her cold. 

Her visceral reaction to seeing Jack with Rosie should have informed her better, but Phryne wasn’t one for self-examination. She’d made a studied habit of avoiding too much introspection, it tended to stifle action. She preferred action. Action was more fun. Besides, if one kept moving, it was harder to be caught.

She turned on her heels toward home, told Mr. Butler that she wouldn’t be requiring dinner, then had a long soak in the tub and dressed for an evening out on the town.


	3. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne ignores her feelings, preferring to bury them in familiar pursuits.

Phryne looked herself over in the mirror. The deep emerald dress, with its shimmering beads, skimmed her body, dipping low and clinging in all the right places. Her feathered fascinator and green pendant earrings drew out the color in her eyes, aided by the perfectly applied kohl liner. A swipe of her signature red lip color was the final touch.

She looked magnificent. And she felt magnificent. She’d go out drinking and dancing and, should she choose, she’d have no trouble finding an exciting and temporary body to fill the empty place in her bed.

Temporary. That was the key here. Anything more was risky, possibly costly, and not worth the trouble. She threw her black velvet, fur trimmed cloak over her arm, and with one last approving smile at her image in the mirror, headed out. She could hear the voices before she reached the stairs.

“Please, come in Inspector,” Mr. Butler said. “Miss Fisher was on her way out, but, I believe she has yet to leave. I’ll let her know you are here.”

“Oh. I don’t want to disrupt her plans,” Jack said, hesitation in his tone. “Perhaps I should come back another time.”

“No need for that Jack,” She trilled breezily, as she came down the stairs, being sure to hold her head high and move slowly, to provide him the best view of her. “I have a moment. What can I do for you?”

His eyes moved over her, taking in her manner of dress. Clearly she was bound for the clubs. This was not a social obligation. This was the type of evening that sprang from a particular desire. The kind of evening, he’d noticed, she hadn’t partaken of recently.

He’d gotten in the habit of stopping by and finding her home, and happy to receive him. They’d spent many companionable evenings in her parlor. Those evenings growing increasingly intimate. Last night, he thought he’d finally declared his intentions. He’d also thought those intentions had been understood, and welcomed.

If that were the case, she would have been expecting him tonight, even, he hoped, desiring to see him, as he had her. He swallowed hard. Perhaps he’d misunderstood.

Mr. Butler had vanished as she’d reached the landing. She stood before Jack looking spectacular and stealing his breath, and clearly waiting for him to explain his arrival.

He stood stiffly, hat in hand, unsure of how to proceed or what to say. He hadn’t come for any reason other than to see her. It had been weeks since he’d ceased making up excuses for his visits. It had no longer seemed necessary. Now, he felt a bit of a fool.

“I can see you’re on your way out,” he said. “I won’t keep you.”

He put his hat on and turned to go.

“Wait,” she said. He looked at her hopefully. “Did you need something?” she inquired casually. “Was there a question about the case?”

“The case,” he repeated, flatly. “No. Nothing that can’t wait. I wouldn’t want to spoil your evening.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m unable to receive you, but after the events of the last few days, a night among friends is just what I need. A chance to forget everything, and move on. I’m sure you understand.”

 _The message is perfectly clear_ , he thought miserably.

“Of course. I understand. I hope you have an enjoyable evening, Miss Fisher,” he said formally. With a slight nod of his head, he took his leave, the knot in his stomach growing ever larger.

He’d thought of her all day. And a hellish day it had been. He’d arrested the Deputy Commissioner, and half the force thought him a traitor. He’d fielded questions and calls from high ranking members of the police, and politicians he was quite sure had never heard his name before today. They all wanted to keep things under wraps to prevent the press from getting wind of such high profile arrests. And, of course, there’d been great concern over the blackmail information Sydney Fletcher had amassed on the rich and powerful.

He’d barely had time to breathe, and when he’d found a moment, he had to spend it comforting Rosie after her ill-advised visit to her father in the cells. His poor ex-wife had still been in denial that the father she adored could behave so deplorably. After her visit, she’d been left with no doubt, and though she held herself proudly, he couldn’t bear the thought of her on public transportation, and had driven her home, thus eating up any lunch hour he might have had.

All the while Phryne had been in the back of his mind, the only thing that brought him any peace, and he’d been counting the hours until he could see her again. It was clear now that he’d not been on her mind for a moment. Or, if he had, it had been with regret for the impression she had left him with last night. She’d said it herself, she wanted to forget, and move on. So, move on he would. He never could deny her anything.

Phryne closed the door behind Jack and rested her forehead against it. The bewildered look in his eyes, quickly replaced by his usual stoic expression, had not escaped her, and it tore at her heart. But this was for the best. She’d been too relaxed, and had let weaken some barriers that were best not breached. Better a little pinch now, than a later, larger pain that would ruin all they had together. She cleared her mind, pulled on her cloak, and stepped out into the night.

 

* * *

 

Phryne arrived home earlier than was normal, and alone. Not one of the men she’d danced with had held her attention. They’d been too thin, too fat, too short, too dull. Even the hands of the more attractive ones had felt cold on her body, and left her wanting. It was as though she hadn't really been present and had simply been going through the motions by rote memory.

The house was dark upon her return, but for a lamp by the phone. Her staff was not expected to wait up for her. She slipped the cape from her shoulders and blindly pushed it toward the coat rack, not noticing when it missed its mark on the hook and fell in a heap to the floor. Her evening bag joined it a moment later. She teetered into the parlor, the beads of her dress swishing pleasantly about her body, and poured an overly generous portion of whiskey into a tumbler.

She kicked off her shoes and bent to pick them up, spilling some of her drink on the rug.

“Sorry, Mr. B!” she snorted, a fit of giddiness taking hold.

The night had been a bit of a bust. The dancing had been quite enjoyable, at first. The drinks palatable, but not as tasty as Mr. Butler’s cocktails. She hadn’t been able to find the delightful abandon she’d been seeking. Most of the conversation was decidedly vapid, the men attentive, but so very young, and rather silly. She recalled, with a bit a giggle, an encounter with one particular boy whose attempts at seduction had been so fatuous they’d been laughable. When had young men become so very dimwitted?

She reached the base of the staircase, bracing her hand on the carved ball at the top of the newel post, then reversed course, spinning haphazardly and seating herself heavily on the bench by the telephone. After a large gulp of her drink, she picked up the phone and placed a call.

“City South Station,” said the voice on the other end.

“Phryyne Fish-here for Inspector Detect...no, Detective Inspector Jack, please,” she said, concentrating on her diction.

“Do you mean DI Robinson, miss?”

“Robinson. Jack. Yes. He’s the one,” she said, solemnly.

“I’m afraid the Inspector isn’t in now. Miss Fisher, was it? Is there something I can do for you?”

“What do you mean he’s not in? He’s always in,” she pouted. “Where else would he be?”

“At home, I'm guessin'. He’ll be back in the morning. Are you all right, miss? Do you need assistance?” the young Constable asked. Clearly this woman was in a bad way.

“Home! Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? You’re a genius!” she cried happily.

She broke the connection and raised the phone to begin another call, before stopping, perplexed. She didn’t know the exchange. She tried to picture Jack at home, alone, without her. She couldn’t.

 _When we’re apart, he shuts himself up in a box, and awaits my return_ , she thought with a giggle.

She’d never thought much about what Jack did when they weren’t together. When she pictured him in her mind, he was in his office, and she was perched on his desk, or he was here, in her parlor, his eyes burning into hers. In her more prurient imaginings, and this had been happening with increasing frequency, he was in her bed.

 _In my bed, in my bath, once in the back garden,_ she thought smiling and leaning back against the wall, letting her hands drift over her body slowly.

Some time later, she was shaken gently awake by a concerned Mr. Butler. She thanked him, smiling pleasantly, and stumbled up to bed.


	4. Resignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack comes to terms with Phryne's apparent change of heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the rating to M. It's not too racy, but there's a bit of daydreaming that might cross a line.

Jack arrived an hour early for his shift. It had been a dismal night. He’d eaten a dull meal, alone in his quiet kitchen, then sat in his favorite chair trying to read. He even lit a fire and poured himself a glass of his finest whiskey, the one he saved for special occasions, trying to create the homey feel such evenings used to bring.

The drink sat untouched as he read the same line of his book repeatedly. He startled awake some time later to find it was quite dark, and the fire was dying. He went to bed, not bothering with pajamas, but falling between the sheets in his singlet and shorts, only to lie awake tossing and turning.

He must have slept briefly, because he awoke feeling very unsettled. His body hot, his heart racing, a certain raven haired detective on his mind. Would it be so bad, he wondered, to play it her way? She’d have him in her bed, he was sure of that. What she wouldn’t have was the continuing relationship that he craved. What if he could give up on the continuing part? Could he be satisfied with one night with her? What would that be like?

_She would lead him upstairs to her room. He’d undress her slowly, taking his time to memorize every inch of her so he could play it back in his memory after it was over. Her hands on his skin would sear his flesh, leaving permanent traces that only he could see. They’d tumble into bed, breath mingling, limbs tangling. He knew it wouldn’t take much to please him, just being able to kiss her and to touch her would be enough. He’d expend his energy working to please her. If just once, he could feel her writhing beneath him, and hear her cry out, calling his name in a fit of passion, he thought he might die a happy man. Just thinking about it now was enough to bring sweet relief. And, if he pleased her, maybe she’d let him stay after, so that he could fall asleep holding her in his arms, breathing in her sweet scent and feeling the warmth of her skin against his body and under his hands. He’d slip out in the morning so as not to cause any discomfort between her and her household staff, and they’d never speak of it again._

But then what?

Did he really think he could go back to the way things were after that? Who was he kidding? He knew that once he’d been with her, he would want her again. Once would not be enough. To be with her, only to later be denied and dismissed, and watch her move on to others, would destroy him. It would destroy what they had together, and he wanted what they had almost more than he wanted her body.

Others could have her body. He wanted the investigations, the nightcaps, the companionship. He wanted her wit and sparkle. Her secrets and inner most thoughts. Her infuriating and intoxicating life force. He wanted it all, but he’d give up on satisfying the physical need, if it meant he could have the rest of it. It just might take awhile before he was happy about it.

Trying to get back to sleep after that was useless, and mountains of paperwork awaited him at the office. He figured he might as well get a head start on the day.

“Good morning sir,” the constable behind the desk said as he passed to his office.

“Morning, Constable,” he grunted, unable to remember the boy’s name at the moment. He was new, and was generally going off as Jack was coming on.

“Umm, Sir? I may have a message for you,” the boy said timidly.

“You _may_ have? Well do you or don’t you?” Jack barked.

“The caller didn’t actually leave a message, sir, but since she were callin’ for you, sir, I thought you should know.”

“What are you talking about Constable? Make yourself clear, man!”

My God, were they all like this? He’d finally gotten Collins to stop stuttering and stammering all over the place, he wondered how long it’d take with this one.

“Very early this mornin’ a woman called askin’ for you sir. I believe she said her name was Fisher. She was a bit hard to understand, sir,” he said quickly.

“Well, what did she want?” Jack growled, it wouldn’t have been the first time she’d called him after stumbling upon some perceived crime.

“Other than you, she didn’t say, sir. When I told her you weren’t in, she hung up. Should I have tried to reach you last night, sir?”

 _For crying out loud, enough with the ‘sirs’ already._ Jack tried to soften his tone, it wasn’t the boy’s fault he was in such a noxious mood.

He wondered what had precipitated Phryne’s call? If it had been a case, she’d have stopped at nothing, pestering the Constable until he called Jack at home.

“Was anything reported last night Constable? A theft or suspicious death?” Jack asked cordially.

“No, sir. It were a quiet night.”

“Then I’m sure it was nothing. Thank you for letting me know,” he resumed his trek to his office.

“Constable,” he said, turning back. “When you said the woman was difficult to understand, what did you mean? Was it a bad connection?”

The young man hesitated. He had yet to meet the famous Miss Fisher, but you didn’t work at City South long without hearing about her, and her relationship with the Inspector.

“No sir. The connection were fine. The woman seemed...and pardon me sayin’ so, sir but, she sounded drun... inebriated. Sir.”

The Inspector’s brows knit together and he scowled.

Constable Brown was glad his shift was nearly over. He was not happy to give any news that brought that look. He’d heard conflicting reports of Inspector Robinson. Most said he was a good cop and a fair boss, but there were those who grumbled that he was too stern and unyielding and could be fierce if you found yourself on his wrong side. Recent arrests had proved he wasn’t afraid to go against the establishment either. Frankly, Inspector Robinson was slightly terrifying.

“Thank you, Constable. That will be all.”

Jack went to his office and picked up his phone to call Phryne, then glanced at the clock. It was far too early. From the looks of her last evening she’d been planning a late night, or more likely early morning. The constable’s description of an inebriated state fit with that kind of evening. There was every chance she’d still be in bed, and he’d bet good money she wasn’t alone.

He dropped his head to his hands, his elbows resting on the desk. It felt like she was torturing him. She’d blithely dismissed him, gone out on the town in her fancy, come-hither gown, overindulged, and then called him. To what purpose? Had none of the men at the club met with her satisfaction? Or, had she just parted from the evening’s entertainment and hoped to tell him about it, in case he hadn’t gotten her message earlier? What game was she playing at now?

Whatever it was, he’d had enough. He’d put his heart on the line on a night when he’d felt raw and vulnerable. He’d ignored his better angels, neglecting the needs of his ex-wife for his own. He’d gone to Phryne without thinking it through, with no regard for the consequences.

He’d gotten what he deserved. Phryne was who she was, and loving her could only result in pain.

How many times did he have to have this conversation with himself? He’d tried to end it once before but hadn’t been able to sever ties completely. He was trying to be satisfied with what they had, and for the most part, he was, until the other night. Until he realized she was on that ship and felt an anger he didn’t know he possessed. Anger, panic and terror, at the thought of her being harmed, or worse, losing her forever. He’d let those feelings take control, and drive him to her door.

She’d done him a favor by nipping things in the bud. She wasn’t a cruel person, and she did care for him, but she knew her limits and his. Her dismissal may have seemed callous, but would he really have preferred she sit him down and tell him outright that she didn’t want him?

Of course not. This was best. He knew he’d always love her, but it would have to be in a chaste, familial way. He had to let go of the desire once and for all.

With the whole of the Victorian Constabulary in turmoil after recent arrests, and his superiors breathing down his neck to wrap things up, he didn’t need any additional stress in his life anyway. He and Miss Fisher would proceed as if nothing had happened. Nothing really had, after all. He would just need to work harder to keep certain feelings in check. He’d done it before, he could do it again.


	5. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the sober light of day, Phryne has second thoughts.

Phryne woke with a head the size of a watermelon. She laid on top of her bed, in her brassiere and stockings, but someone had pulled a blanket over her and closed her drapes. The room was dark and cool, even though it was midday. A glass of water and some headache powder awaited her on the bedside table. She rose gingerly, peeling off last night’s undergarments and slipping into her robe. Displaying the usual divine clairvoyance inherent in Phryne’s household staff, Dot rapped on the door.

“Miss? I have your tea, if you’re ready,” she said pushing through the doorway, a fully laden tray in her hands. She set the tray down on the bed.

“Did you have a nice evening, miss?”

“Not really, Dot,” Phryne sighed. “May I give you some advice? Don’t try to run from problems. It never works.”

“What problems, miss?”

“Never mind. Have there been any calls for me today?”

“Yes, miss,” Dot said, Phryne’s head snapped up hopefully. “Your aunt would like you to call her.”

“Oh. Of course,” Phryne said. “I’ll take care of that later. Would you please draw me a bath?”

Relaxing in the warm water with food in her stomach, and the headache powder taking effect, she pondered what to do next. Last night had been a huge mistake. She wasn’t exactly sure what had set off her flight, but now, with her progressively clearing head, she knew it had indeed been a flight.

She’d gone to see Jack with the intention of acknowledging what had been building between them and testing a future that both excited and frightened her. When she saw him with Rosie, something in her had snapped shut. She’d retreated behind that safe door and made the decision to keep him on the other side.

It wasn’t because of Rosie. Deep down, she knew that if she’d called out to him, Jack would have turned from his ex-wife and come to her. He’d made that clear when he’d shown up that night, and that knowledge had thrilled her. After he'd left, she'd stood against that door and had nearly heard aloud the gleeful shouting in her brain, in time with the rapid beat of her heart; _he’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine!_

Seeing him again with Rosie, a woman he had once bound his life to, was a stark reminder that Jack Robinson was a serious man. As much as she desired him, she wasn’t sure she could give him what he needed, or if she even wanted to.

The look on his face when she turned him away last night swam before her eyes. She knew all of his looks by now. He’d been confused, hurt and embarrassed. It had been fleeting, replaced almost instantly by his usual mask of control. By the time he’d left, his manner conveyed that he’d received her message, and would respect her wishes, as he always did.

They were good together. She valued him and would be crushed if their partnership failed. She’d already shown him parts of herself she usually kept hidden. She was afraid to risk more. She’d never known the kind of healthy, loving relationship he sought.

At least that’s how she’d pictured a relationship with him. They would have everything they had now, but they’d have the intimacy and sensual pleasure that went with a physical relationship as well. It actually sounded rather wonderful, except for the marriage part. The permanency of that was terrifying.

But, who had said anything about marriage? He hadn’t. There’d been no proposal or any requirement of a promise of commitment. He hadn’t said a word about that. In fact, all he’d said was that he didn’t always do the honorable thing, and she was very sure, that if they hadn’t been interrupted, he’d have come upstairs and they’d have made love. Was it possible he’d been willing to compromise? If he was, could they find a way to be together on their own terms? Terms that satisfied them both?

Why couldn’t they have it all? The investigations, the nightcaps, the companionship, the sex.

She loved his quick wit and dark sense of humor, his sly smiles and steady presence. He was patient with her. More patient than anyone had ever been, and yet he treated her as an equal, challenging her and expecting she’d rise to the challenge. He respected her and had faith in her. He made her happy, and he was so beautiful.

This beautiful man had offered himself to her without asking for her fidelity or commitment. Without any discussion of what it meant or where it was going. And he’d come back the next night to continue where they’d been interrupted.

_Dear God what had she done? And how would she fix it?_


	6. An Inppportune Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne picks a bad time to visit Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably won't post another chapter until the weekend. Had to go out of town and hotel wi-fi is spotty. Thanks for hanging in there!
> 
> The song lyrics are from Don't look at Me that Way by Cole Porter from a 1928 Musical - Paris.

“There’s a call for you, Inspector,” Collins said.

“Who is it?”

“Not sure sir, It’s a woman. She speaks rather softly, and didn’t want to give her name,” he said

“Very well, put her through.”

Phryne was the only woman that regularly called him, but Collins should have recognized her voice. Unless she had altered it. Perhaps she was embarrassed at having called earlier in a drunken state, and didn’t wish to be recognized as the same caller. Jack picked up the phone.

“You needn’t be so cryptic,” he said. “It’s only Collins.”

“I don’t care who it is, my very name is synonymous with scandal and humiliation, and I’d rather not hear the disdain.”

“Rosie!” he said, in surprise. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else. What can I do for you?”

“You haven’t forgotten, have you?” she said. “You’re still coming with me?”

He had forgotten, for the moment. It surely would’ve come back to him eventually.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Of course I’ll come, but I am rather swamped with paperwork. Can it wait until I’m done at 5:00? Otherwise, I could assign a Constable to take you.”

“I couldn’t face anyone else. They’d just look at me with either pity or disgust. I can wait for you, unless it’s too much bother,” she said.

“Absolutely not. I’m happy to do it,” he said, cringing inwardly. Accompanying Rosie to her disgraced fiancé's home to pick up her things was not his idea of a good time, but since the police weren’t through searching the place, she needed an escort and she’d asked him.

“There’s not much to get. Just a few things I’d brought over in anticipation of my move -after the wedding, of course,” she said. “I’d just like to get them as soon as possible so that I can put this whole episode behind me.”

“I understand,” he said. “Come by at the end of the day and we’ll go over together.”

“Thank you so much, Jack. I’ll be by for you at five,” she said, sounding greatly relieved. “And Jack, would you care to have dinner with me after? It’s just that Iris and I have talked and cried all I care to. I can’t go through another evening like that. Would it bother you terribly to keep me company once more?”

He wasn’t looking forward to another evening at home, and he wasn’t about to show up at Phryne’s again without an invitation. Dinner with Rosie, under current circumstances, was not likely to be much fun, but, it was better than being alone. What was it they said? Misery loved company?

“I’d be glad to have dinner with you, Rosie,” he said.

“Oh, thank you Jack,” she said, gratefully. “And perhaps we can find other things to discuss than Father and Sydney? Or, we don’t have to talk at all. We certainly know how to do that, don’t we?” she said with a small laugh.

It wasn’t a terribly cheerful laugh, but at least it didn’t sound bitter, as it might have a few years ago. Apparently the calamity that was currently her life, made their past marital strife pale in comparison.

He hung up, and dug into his files. The day flew by and he was just putting the final touches on a report when he heard her coming. The cadence of her step was unmistakable. He looked up in time to see her breeze through the door, removing her hat and smoothing her hair.

“Do you know, I think we might be in for a storm later, Jack. The wind is really picking up out there,” she said, conversationally, before picking up a file folder from his desk and plopping down in the chair opposite to peruse it.

He smiled, despite himself. She always marched into his office and began rifling through his papers as though she belonged there.

“Help yourself, Miss Fisher,” he said.

His snide comment earned him a raised eyebrow, but she didn’t lift her head from the file. He folded his hands on the desk in front of him and watched her as she read. She was so uncommonly beautiful. He never tired of looking at her. It was an indulgence he decided he would continue to allow himself.

“Hmm,” she hummed. “It appears you found writing up the report on George Sanderson to be challenging. A don’t think I’ve ever seen you tread such a fine line before, Inspector.”

“If I had my way I wouldn’t mince words, but the Chief Superintendent was displeased with my first draft. He felt it reflected badly on the department.”

“Your _report_ reflected badly?” she said incredulously. He shrugged. “Well.” She dropped the file back on his desk. “You can wrap a old fish in new paper, but it’s still going to stink.”

“True. Now, I’m sure you didn’t come to review my paperwork. To what do I owe the pleasure? Was there something you needed?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I thought perhaps you needed me. You did stop by yesterday.”

“You didn’t have to come all the way down here,” he said. “If I’d needed something, I’d have called. Speaking of calling, the Constable on duty thought you might have tried to reach me here last night. Did you call the station?”

“Last night?” she said, blinking innocently, something pricked at the back of her brain. “Why, no Jack. I was out last night. You know that.”

“Of course,” he said. “And I trust you had a nice time?”

“Oh, you know,” she waved vaguely. “One of those nights is much like another.”

“If you say so,” he said. “If there’s nothing you needed, I’m about to get off duty and was going to head out soon.”

That was what she’d been counting on by stopping by so late in the day. She was hoping she could invite him to dinner, as she had been planning to yesterday.

“Jack,” she said earnestly, leaning forward in her seat. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk last night.”

“No need to apologize, Miss Fisher,” he said. “I shouldn’t have stopped by without an invitation.”

“You know you don’t need an invitation, Jack. You’re always welcome in my home.”

“Perhaps I’ve become a bit too comfortable in your home. I shouldn’t want to overstay my welcome,” he said, looking down at hands.

“That’s not possible,” she said. “In fact, I was thinking, if you’re free...”

“Rosie!” he said.

Phryne spun in the chair to see Rosie in the doorway of Jack’s office.

“We did say five, didn’t we?” Rosie said.

“Yes. I'm, uh, we're just finishing up a few things,” he said, looking from Rosie to Phryne and back again. “Rosie, could give me a minute?”

“Of course. Unless you’d rather just give me the keys?” Rosie said.

“No,” Jack said, “I said I’d go with you. Besides, there’s just the one set and...”

“I won’t keep you,” Phryne said, standing and putting on her hat. “I can see you have plans.”

“Don’t let me rush you off,” Rosie said. “If there’s something you need to discuss with Jack, I can wait.”

“I wouldn’t hear of it,” Phryne said. “I won’t hold you up. Jack and I can finish this another time, can’t we Jack?”

 _Finish what?_ He wondered. Of all the bad timing. She was out the door before he had a chance to say another word.

“Are you ready?” Rosie asked.

Phryne paused in the hallway, eavesdropping.

“Uh, yeah, I just need put away some files and we can be on our way,” Jack said, sounding a little flustered.

“No rush, Jack. Where would you like to go to dinner?” Rosie said.

Phryne sat in her car outside the station for nearly five minutes before they emerged, and walked to Jack’s car, just as she’d seen them do the day before. The ease with which they moved together made evident their long history. They were having dinner and Rosie had asked for a key. Was it possible that Rosie was staying with Jack?

For once she wished her Hispano-Suiza were less easily identifiable, but as it was, following was out of the question. More than a little desperate too, she had to admit. She waited until they were well out of sight before driving home, eating a dinner she barely tasted, and then finding herself in the parlor, playing that damn song again. She couldn't play it without thinking of him, but unlike the girl in the song, she was long past ready to lose control.

 

 _Oh, Im so mad about a lad_  
_It's too deep to express_  
_And when he tries to use his eyes_  
_They have instant success_  
_So full of passion, these pupils are_  
_That girls forget what their scruples are_  
_So when he turns them on me_  
_I murmur tenderly....._

 _I think you're great, I think you're grand_  
_And I don't mind if you hold my hand_  
_But don't look at me that way_

 _Your kisses, too, are heavenly_  
_And oh, so full of variety_  
_But don't look at me that way_

 _When you tell me sweetly you're mine completely_  
_I always give a long cheer_  
_But those sudden flashes behind your lashes_  
_Are nobody's business, dear_

 _Since you began to play your role_  
_I've lost my heart and I've lost my soul_  
_But as for losing my self-control_  
_Don't look at me that way_

 _I just adore your loving arms_  
_In fact, they're two of your greatest charms_  
_But don't look at me that way_

 _I'm very mild, I'm very meek_  
_My will is strong, but my won't is weak_  
_So don't look at me that way_

 _When that strange expression of indiscretion_  
_Begins to show in your stare_  
_There's a hocus-pocus about your focus_  
_That gives me a terrible scare_

 _I feel a thrill when you arrive_  
_And while you're near I simply thrive_  
_But if you want to get home alive_  
_Don't look at me that way_


	7. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack speaks aloud of his love for Phryne, just not to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience and the wonderful comments! I really enjoy reading them. Back home now with reliable wi-fi and hope to be posting regularly.

“Thank you for coming with me, Jack. I don’t think I could have done that alone.”

“I was happy to do it,” he said. “It was no trouble.”

“It was. You went out of your way for me. They’d have sent some snide Constable with me and I’d have hated the disparaging remarks I was bound to hear as the daughter of a corrupt cop.”

“One look from you would have any Constable shaking in his boots and biting his tongue. Besides, neither George’s nor Sydney’s behavior reflects badly on you,” he said. “People understand you are innocent of all of it.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Rosie said. “At least I have my things, and never have to set foot in Sydney’s house again. I can get on with my life.”

“What will you do now?” Jack asked.

“I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll get myself a job. Many women are these days. It might be nice to be in charge of my own destiny. I just don’t know what I’m qualified to do.”

“I’m sure you can do whatever you set your mind to,” he said, reaching across the table to give her hand a squeeze.

“Thank you for agreeing to have dinner with me,” she said smiling. “It’s nice to get out of the house.”

“You shouldn’t hide, Rosie,” he said. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’m afraid not many of my friends will see it that way. Once word of Sydney’s dealings are widely known there will be plenty that won’t want to be seen with me. It won’t really be a matter of hiding. The invitations will simply dry up. So, I do appreciate this. I just hope I haven’t spoiled your plans for the evening,” she said.

“There was nothing to spoil,” he said.

“You didn’t have plans with Miss Fisher?”

“No.”

Rosie was consumed with curiosity regarding the true nature of the relationship between her former husband and the rather glamorous and titled Miss Phryne Fisher.

She’d seen them together on the street once. She’d been behind them and had followed for a few blocks. They’d walked together purposefully, matching each other stride for stride. Miss Fisher was talking. She was very animated, her hands gesturing enthusiastically to punctuate her thoughts. Jack was his usual still self, occasionally turning his head slightly, or tilting it toward his companion to hear her better.

They walked together as mates do, like two old and close friends, the only indication of an underlying affection was the way their shoulders would occasionally bump together.

Rosie panicked for a moment when they reached an intersection and had to stop to wait for unusually heavy traffic and the streetcar to pass. She couldn’t stop dead too far behind them without drawing curious looks and had had to move closer than she liked, bowing her head and staying slightly behind a large man to avoid detection. She was close enough to overhear a bit of their conversation.

“Our suspect is absolutely covered in them. Did you notice?” Miss Fisher had said.

“It was hard to miss,” said Jack.

“Have you ever thought of getting a tattoo, Jack?”

“I can’t say that I have,” he said. “Have you?”

“I may or may not have one on my person as we speak,” she said, slipping her hand along his arm and gripping his bicep. His elbow automatically bent to draw her hand close and keep it there. She leaned in and said playfully, “which do you think it is, Jack? Do I or Don’t I?”

Rosie was sure Jack would huff indignantly at the inappropriate conversation, but he leaned toward Miss Fisher, bending his head closer to hers, and spoke in a low, alluring voice.

“I’m not sure I want to know, Miss Fisher,” he said, “I think I prefer the mystery.”

“Well, I know how you enjoy unraveling a mystery, Inspector,” she said.

He then looked directly at Miss Fisher, a sly smile on his face that was almost lascivious. She smiled seductively back at him for a long moment, then turned her attention back to the street.

“Come on Jack, here’s our chance,” she said, darting out in front of traffic and pulling him along with her.

Rosie stayed at the curb for a moment, feeling slightly stunned, then turned away in the other direction.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him look at Miss Fisher like that, but it still shook her. It was a look so full of intent and quiet passion. Rosie didn’t think he’d ever looked at her with that intensity. Not even in the early days of their courtship. If he had, she’d never have been able to hold his gaze the way Miss Fisher did. She’d have looked away and blushed. She certainly could never have carried on such a loaded and teasing conversation with him, not even when they'd been married.

Jack had been an eager lover, and it was both exciting and a bit frightening. They’d been inexperienced and so young, and she’d been shy about letting him see her naked and touch her. As curious as she was, she was uncomfortable looking at him as well, and never as bold as she thought he wanted her to be. He never complained or made her feel inadequate, telling her often how much he loved her, but watching him now, she had to wonder if she’d been a disappointment.

From what she’d heard around town about the woman, Miss Fisher was neither inexperienced or shy about the ways of the flesh, and Jack seemed to find her flirting titillating. It made Rosie slightly jealous. She could never be that audacious.

Now, she looked across the table at Jack curiously. Maybe if they’d had more time they would have learned together, and been content. If the war hadn’t come. Or, maybe they’d never really stood a chance at making each other happy.

Whatever else he was to her now, Jack remained a good friend, and she loved him still, in her own way.

“You spend quite a lot of time together, don’t you?” she asked him, “You and Miss Fisher?”

“Miss Fisher is a colleague, of sorts,” he said.

“She’s more than that,” she said. Had he forgotten how well she knew him?

“What are you getting at Rosie?” he asked. He hadn’t missed her tone. This was more than a casual line of questioning.

“Indulge me, Jack. I’m just trying to satisfy my curiosity. The other day it was obvious that you are very comfortable in her home,” she said. “Do you spend a lot of time there?”

He knew why she was fishing. She wasn’t a policeman’s daughter for nothing. She’d see through a lie, but he wasn’t about to get into this conversation with her. He gave a tilt of his head and his lips curved into a playful smirk.

“She has some very fine whiskey,” he said, shrugging. “And she’s generous with it.”

He was patronizing her. Rosie bristled at the glib reply and the smirk. She used to love that smirk, but right now, it annoyed her.

“What else is she generous with, Jack?” She said, in a manner more snide than she intended.

His eyes snapped to hers with a different kind of intensity. She shrank a little from the sudden storm she saw in them.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not my place.”

“No. It isn’t,” he said, all the warmth gone from his voice. He bent his head and put his attention to settling the check, silently counting out bills. She recognized the set of his jaw and stiffening of his shoulders.

“Jack, I didn’t mean to imply...”

“Yes, you did,” he said. “And though it really is none of your business, you are wrong about Miss Fisher and me.”

“Am I? It’s clear that you care for her,” she said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Please Jack, it’s been such a nice evening, let’s not end it badly.”

“It’s all right, Rosie,” he said. “And as much as I’d like to appease your curiosity, there’s just not much to tell. Miss Fisher and I work together on cases and we are friends.”

“Are you sure that’s all? Because I do worry about you,” she said.

“Worry about me? Why? What is it you’re afraid will happen to me?” he said.

“She has a reputation,” Rosie said.

“You, of all people, should understand that gossip is ugly, and not worth the breath expended passing it. You don’t really know her, Rosie.”

“Well, who is she then? Explain it to me,” Rosie said. “Because what I’ve heard from others makes me worry. You seem to know her, and care for her, tell me why.”

He was torn between his desire to bury his feelings, and a desperate ache to speak of them. It was like he was a boy, always thinking of, and wanting to talk about the girl he fancied, coming up with any excuse to bring her name up in conversation. But he wasn’t a boy. He was a grown man, Rosie was his ex-wife, and this was ridiculous.

“This is not an appropriate conversation,” He said. “Shall we go?” He stood and offered her his hand. She took it and rose, standing next to him and taking his arm.

 _This conversation is inappropriate?_ she thought, recalling the one he’d happily had on a public street corner.

“Just tell me this then, Jack. Does she make you happy?”

There was so much inside of him, and expert though he was at suppressing his emotions, this one time, they fought to be free from their constraints and threatened to overwhelm him.

“She makes me equally happy, and miserable.”

Rosie’s step faltered. It was a truth she already knew, but suddenly realized she hadn’t really wanted confirmed.

“You love her,” she said, breathlessly.

“Hopelessly,” he said.

“Well,” she said. “I don’t quite know what to say.”

“I’m sorry Rosie,” he said. “That was insensitive of me, considering what you are currently going through.”

“No need to apologize, Jack. I did ask,” she said with a wan smile. “I suppose I’m a little envious, considering the ill-fated end of my love affair.”

“If it makes you feel any better, she doesn’t carry the same torch for me,” he said. He said it simply enough, but she could feel his anguish. It resonated through every inch of his body.

“Then she’s a fool,” Rosie said.

He lifted a skeptical eyebrow, as he handed her into the car.

“Jack,” she said. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure she’s worth breaking your heart over. You may not want to believe the gossip, but there is some truth to it.”

“I know you don’t think highly of her Rosie, but you don’t really know her. It’s true that she lives her life unconventionally, but what you hear, what the papers write about her, that’s not who she is.”

“Then you approve of the way she behaves?”

“It’s not my place to approve or disapprove,” he said.

“It seems you’ll forgive this woman anything. I’m afraid you’ve placed her on a pedestal.”

“I don’t have her on a pedestal. I know who she is. I know she has flaws, and failings, as do we all. I think I love her even more because she’s let me see hers, and accepts mine.”

She knew he didn’t mean that as a criticism of her, but Rosie felt like all breath had been forced from her lungs.

When he'd come home, he’d tried, at the very beginning, to tell her what it had been like for him, to explain his difficulty adjusting. She hadn’t wanted to hear it. It was too awful. She’d resented his sadness, and his brooding. She’d wanted her happy, handsome husband back.

That had been a failing, but she wouldn’t admit it at the time. She’d blamed him. She wasn’t the one who had changed. She’d just wanted to go on as they had before. She pretended nothing was wrong, and wished he would do the same, hiding her own sorrow and fear from him until it had become too much to bear, and had spilled out in frustration and anger.

“Does she know you feel this way? Why aren’t you together?” she asked.

“We’re partners in our investigations and we’re friends,” he said. “That’s all we really can be, I think. Miss Fisher prefers to live her life in an way that probably wouldn’t suit me. It’s complicated.”

“Don’t you think she might change her ways? For you? She seems to care a great deal for you.”

“I’d never ask her to do that. How she lives is her business and her’s alone. Besides, to ask her to change would be asking the woman I love to be someone other than the woman I love.”

He would never try to make Phryne into something she wasn’t. He’d lived with someone that had tried to do that to him. He didn’t blame Rosie. She’d married one man and then ended up with another. Even so, it had been painful, and he’d grown to resent her for it. He couldn’t stand it if Phryne grew to resent him that way.

If the failure of his marriage had taught him anything, it was that trying to be someone you weren’t for someone else, or trying to make that someone change who they were for you, only ended in unhappiness for both involved.

“I don’t understand you Jack,” Rosie said.

“I told you, it’s complicated.”

Rosie opened her mouth to say more.

“Can we leave this Rosie?” he said, then immediately changed the subject without waiting for her to answer. “What time is your meeting with the solicitors?”

She knew she’d reached his limit. There was no point in trying to pursue the topic further.

“I made it for noon. It shouldn’t take too long, I just need to sign the papers finalizing the transfer of the assets father is signing over to me. I promise, this is the last time I’ll be bothering you, but you know how these men can be.”

He nodded. He’d been made more aware recently of the dismissive way some men spoke to woman. As though they were too dim or delicate to understand. He’d been made more aware because Phryne was so loathe to tolerate it, and would demand better treatment. He wished Rosie could do the same, but she’d been raised by a doting father that treasured her, just not for her intelligence. Rosie had been admired for her beauty and charm, and all that had been expected was that she’d find herself a good man to take care of her. She’d never been praised for her sharp mind, and she did have one, Jack knew that for certain.

“I’ll go with you Rosie, if you really want, but I’ve no doubt you could hold your own tomorrow,” he said.

“Please Jack? If you wouldn’t mind, I’d so appreciate it. They won’t talk to me in a sensible way. If you’re there, they won’t talk down to me - well, they’ll be talking to you, but at least I’ll be there to hear it.”

He left her at her sister’s door promising to be by the next day to collect her. He drove home pondering the differences between the only two women he’d ever really loved. His love for Rosie was not the same as before, but it was still there, and probably always would be.

They were different, Rosie and Phryne, but in some ways not so very different. If Rosie had had to rely on herself the way Phryne had, she be every bit as independent and fierce. She was leaning heavily on him at the moment, but that would end, Jack knew. Rosie was a proud and capable woman. She’d be fine.

He realized something about himself as well. He didn't like to be needed. He didn't mind helping and supporting Rosie, but he didn't like to be so very needed. He desired to be wanted and appreciated, to support and be supported. He wanted an equal partnership where both parties could survive without the other, but would rather not.


	8. Covert Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne assigns altruistic motives to her next move. Convinced she's doing the right thing, she steps out of bounds, finds herself in trouble with Jack, and in need of some self-reflection. Of course, in the end, she realizes she is not entirely to blame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters brings us back around to where the story started.

The song ended and Phryne resisted the urge to play it again. She wondered where Jack was now. Was he still at dinner with his former wife? And, what had Rosie meant when she’d asked about a key?

Phryne had assumed that Rosie wouldn’t have returned to either the home of her father, or fiancé, after the revelations of recent days, but she hadn’t really troubled herself much with where she might have gone. Not until now. She wondered if it was possible that Rosie was staying with Jack.

She dismissed that option fairly quickly. If Rosie had been staying with Jack, he’d never have shown up on Phryne’s doorstep.

Unless she’d been wrong about his intentions that night. But, regardless of his intentions, he’d never have left Rosie alone and in distress. She knew him well enough to know that.

And, she’d not been wrong about his intentions. If there was one thing Phryne Fisher recognized without doubt, it was the look of a man that wanted her, and Jack had wanted her.

That meant he’d deposited Rosie somewhere else, with someone else, making sure she was taken care of, and come directly to Phryne’s door. They’d been interrupted, but he’d left with the impression that they’d begun something both of them wanted to continue.

Then she’d messed everything up, turning him away, and proceeding with the ridiculous charade of that unsatisfying night on the town.

Wherever they’d been heading two days ago, she’d effectively detoured them, and now, it looked like his ex-wife was working her way back into the picture. Every time she turned around, there stood Rosie.

 Maybe it was for the best. Rosie was free again, and she was the woman Jack had once chosen to spend his life beside. Perhaps the right thing to do was to back away and let them try to rekindle what they’d lost. They were both different people from those they’d been when he returned from war. Perhaps now they could make it work.

She couldn’t offer Jack what Rosie could. A marriage and life together, possibly children. Jack might want children. Yes, backing away was the honorable thing to do. So why did it make her feel sick?

If she could just talk to Rosie, she’d feel better. If she could be sure that Rosie wanted Jack for the right reasons. That she wasn’t just using him as a port in a storm. That she would love him the way he deserved to be loved and would never hurt him again. Maybe then she’d feel secure in this choice. She went to bed with this in mind and woke with a formulating plan.

It hadn’t required considerable lengths to find her rival. It was the sort routine investigative work she normally set Dot to. The fact that she’d chosen to do it herself, and had not shared her plans with anyone, should have been her first clue as to the inappropriate nature of them. Once again, her need to know got the better of her, and she’d come up with a rationale for her actions that was a bit flimsy, if she looked too closely. She didn’t look too closely. She forged ahead.

She’d remembered Jack saying that Rosie had gone to her sister when their marriage had failed. She had probably done the same now. The problem was, Phryne didn’t know the sister’s married name, or her Christian name for that matter.

Phryne went to the registrar’s office, and through some deductive reasoning, and a bit of flirting with the desk clerk, who to her fortune was young and male, she’d obtained the information on the marriage between an Iris Sanderson and Ralph Grandlund. Tracking down a current address had been a piece of cake.

 

* * *

 

“I’ll get the door,” Rosie called to her sister.

It was probably Jack. Fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, but she was ready this time. She knew he never liked to be late for appointments. It was a trait he’d inherited from his mother. Early on, he’d teased Rosie about her inability to be ready on time, while she’d argue that being early only meant they sat around cooling their heels. Later, well, later many of the things that had once been endearing had become a source of irritation, for both of them. She grabbed her hat and bag and pulled the door open.

“I’m ready! Right on time...Miss Fisher!” she said, in surprise.

“Miss Sanderson,” Phryne said, “Forgive my intrusion, perhaps I should have called first.”

Suddenly, Phryne was not at all sure why she was standing in front of Rosie Sanderson, uninvited and most definitely unexpected. Rosie clearly had somewhere to be.

“Is something wrong?” Rosie said, “Has something happened to Jack?”

“No!” Phryne said, “Jack is fine. As far as I know, I mean, I’m sure he’s fine, and if he were otherwise, someone would have notified you...” she was babbling.

“Would you like to come in? I’d offer you tea, but I’m just on my way out,” Rosie said opening the door to Phryne. The raucous sound of children at play could be heard inside.

“That’s perfectly all right, I just need a moment of your time,” Phryne said, hesitating on the doorstep. A shrill cry emanated from somewhere just inside. A child complaining about some injustice perpetrated by a sibling. Phryne recoiled slightly at the sound, while Rosie smiled indulgently.

“Perhaps I should step outside,” she said, chuckling, and closing the door behind her. “What can I do for you?”

“You know, I’m not sure,” Phryne laughed nervously, “I’d hoped to be able to talk to you about something, but now, I’m afraid, it seems entirely inappropriate.”

“If it’s anything to do with Sydney’s illegal enterprise, I’ve already told everything I know, which is nothing. He confided nothing in me, and I was all to happy to live in ignorance,” Rosie said, sourly.

“It’s not about that,” Phryne said. “I’ve no doubt you were in the dark on those matters.”

“Jack, then?” Rosie said, arching her eyebrow in a manner that was eerily familiar. “After all, he is the only other thing we have in common, Miss Fisher.”

Phryne felt herself blush, much to her annoyance.

“Please, call me Phryne,” she said, trying to regain some semblance of balance. She felt she was at a grave disadvantage, and she didn’t like the feeling. “I guess it is about Jack,” she said, with more confidence than she felt. “In truth, I’m concerned about him.”

“Oh? What are your concerns?”

“This case was difficult for him, for many reasons, not the least because of his respect for your father, and how it’s hurt you,” Phryne began, not at all sure where she was going, but she’d always been good at thinking on her feet, something would come to her.

“It’s been difficult on all of us,” Rosie said stiffly.

“Of course,” Phryne said. “But, I’m sure you know that Jack carries a lot on his shoulders. He feels things deeply, and always wants to do the right thing, and sometimes, that causes him to put the needs of others before his own.”

There was a pregnant pause as Rosie considered that statement. “Whose needs are you afraid he’s putting first now?” she said.

 _Did all married couples start to take on each other’s traits?_ Phryne wondered in alarm, seeing the way Rosie’s jaw clenched, the set of her shoulders, and the cold look in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Phryne said. “Perhaps, this was a mistake.”

“Yes, Miss Fisher,” Rosie said. “I think it was. Am I right in assuming you’ve come here to enlighten me about my husband —former husband? Do you really think you know things about him that I don’t?”

“I would never presume that,” Phryne said, unconvincingly. In fact, she did think she knew things about Jack that Rosie didn’t. She was quite sure of that, in fact.

“But, you do presume,” Rosie said. “And, you think that I’m taking advantage of Jack’s good nature. Who are you to make that kind of statement? Do you really think he needs your protection from me? You know nothing of our relationship. And you have some nerve after the way you treat him.”

“The way I treat him?”

“Don’t pretend to be naive. You can’t possibly have missed the way he feels about you. It’s clear from a mile away, and you do nothing to discourage it. I’ve known women like you. You feed on that kind of adoration from men, and the more you can add to your collection, the better. You enjoy having him wrapped around your finger and now, apparently, you’re afraid you’re losing him to me, and you’ve come here to do what, exactly? Convince me to back off?”

Phryne was stung. To be accused of being so cavalier with Jack’s affection. She wasn’t. She would never.

“No! I just wanted to be sure that you were sincere. That you wouldn’t hurt him again. If you and Jack can be happy together, then that is what I would want for him.”

“How benevolent of you. I suppose you were going to tell me that if I truly love him, you’ll step aside. Thank you. I’m sure I’ll sleep better knowing I have your permission,” Rosie snorted. “You really are unbelievably conceited, aren’t you! Let me ease your mind,” she continued bitterly. “I have no designs on Jack. I’ve just learned my fiancé is a brute and a despicable excuse for a human being, and my father is not much better. Do you really think I’m scheming to make a new husband of my old?”

Phryne didn’t blame Rosie for being angry. In her place, she’d be angry too. What in the world had she been thinking by coming here? This was none of her business. If Rosie and Jack wanted to try again, how was that her concern? Jack would be furious.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Phryne said.

“No, you shouldn’t have, but since you’ve opened this door, I have no problem telling you that if anyone should leave Jack alone, it’s you! When I said you were making things worse for him, I meant professionally, but now, I see that you won’t stop until you’ve made him entirely miserable. If you have your way you’ll reduce a proud, wonderful man to just another of your conquests, and then you’ll move on, leaving him broken. You’ll ruin him.”

“What’s going on here?” Jack called out as he strode swiftly up the path. He’d heard Rosie’s raised voice from the street.

Neither woman had seen him approaching. They both turned to face him. Rosie’s face flushed with anger, Phryne’s, chagrined.

“Phryne?” he said, perplexed. “Why are you here?”

“I came to speak to Rosie,” she said, lamely.

“What about, and how did you know where to find her?”

“It seems your lover disapproves of how much time you’re spending with me Jack, and she’s come to tell me to leave her playthings alone,” Rosie said, her voice dripping with disdain.

“Of course I haven’t,” Phryne cried. “I just wanted to make sure...”

“Make sure of what, Miss Fisher?” Jack said. That same set of jaw she’d seen moments earlier on Rosie appeared on him. “Rosie, would you mind waiting for me by the car please?”

Rosie made to argue, but a look from him, and her memories of their conversation the previous night, softened her anger. She nodded, and left them alone. Jack looked expectantly at Phryne. She stood still, her hands clasping her bag, her eyes looking anywhere but at him.

“What is this about, Phryne?” he asked, trying to hold his temper and hear her out.

‘When I came to your office yesterday, I was hoping to speak with you, but we were interrupted,” she said.

“So, you came to speak with Rosie instead?”

“Things were so confused between us,” she said. “I was trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” The calm he had strived for left him. “How exactly were things confused between us? I let you know what I wanted, and you, very clearly, let me know you weren’t interested. I understood your meaning, Phryne, and I gave you no indication that I wouldn’t respect your decision. I can’t fathom what you hoped to gain by coming here and frankly, I don’t care. Rosie has been through enough. If there is something you wish to discuss with me, you know how to find me. Leave Rosie out of this. Whatever _this_ is,” he said, as he turned and walked away.

Phryne followed him down the path. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would make what she’d done seem reasonable.

“If it’s any consolation,” she said, attempting lightness, “That ex-wife of yours can hold her own.”

He didn’t stop or look around, just shook his head slightly.

“I’m sorry Jack,” she said, miserably.

“Be careful, Miss Fisher. You’ll make a habit of that.”

He slid behind the wheel, starting the car and driving off in an uncharacteristically reckless manner, leaving her standing alone on the curb. The look Rosie tossed over her shoulder, one that hovered between smug and sympathetic, was salt in an open wound.

“I don’t know what that was about and I don’t want to know,” Jack said to Rosie. “But I’m sorry if she upset you. I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you again.”

“She’ll ruin you Jack, and I won’t stand by and watch that happen,” Rosie said.

“I don’t want to discuss it. And I can take care of myself,” he said.

He remembered why he’d settled into a life free of entanglements and had focused on his job. He’d dropped his guard and was now set upon by women in every corner of his life. They interfered with his work, demanded his attention, spoiled the quiet enjoyment he used to have in his home by constantly invading his thoughts, and distracting him at every turn. Then they behaved in such an unpredictable manner. What in the world had Phryne been thinking? How was a man suppose to function like this?

Rosie looked over at Jack in profile. He looked as bewildered as she felt.

Miss Fisher’s visit had thrown her. She had been relying on Jack rather too often these last few days. Was Miss Fisher correct in thinking there was more to it? Not on Jack’s part. He’d told her only last night that he loved someone else. He was simply being Jack. She’d asked for his help and he’d given it. Just as he had when she’d asked for the divorce.

He’d come to court and given testimony that he’d broken his vows, allowing her out of the marriage without attaching any blame to her. At the time, she’d not thought much of it. She’d convinced herself that he probably had broken his vows at some point in their separation. Most likely with Miss Fisher, given the woman’s reputation. Rosie’s father had often spoken of the way Miss Fisher had affixed herself to Jack since her arrival in town.

Now, it seemed that wasn’t true, and that he’d lied for her. In court. Knowing how much his word meant to him, she appreciated just what that had cost him.

He loved Phryne Fisher, and the woman’s behavior today seemed to indicate strong feelings on her side as well. Rosie still had a deep affection for Jack, and she wanted him to find happiness. Her reliance on him of late might be interfering with that. It was time to cut the line and either sink or swim on her own.

She went into the meeting with her solicitor with a new found courage, born of nerves and adrenaline. Jack took a back seat, allowing her to set the tone of the meeting, and once he’d realized her new resolve, had gently steered any conversation directed at him back to her. The meeting had gone better than she could have hoped, and by the end there had been no doubt who was in charge, and that all future interactions would be handled by her alone.

As they drove back to her sister’s she used her new found confidence  to stick her nose in one last time.

“She does care for you, you know,” she said.

“Rosie, please,” He sighed, “don’t.”

“I will speak, and unless you want to drop me on the curb and make me walk home, you’ll have to hear me,” she said. “She cares for you. A woman does not come sniffing around like she did today unless she is invested. She was marking her territory.”

“Sniffing around? Marking her territory? For goodness sake, we are not animals.”

“Yes, we are,” she said. “And we behave in a similar manner when threatened. Believe me Jack. She was here to find out if she’s losing you, and she’s afraid that she might. More afraid, I think, than even she realizes.”

He’d pulled to the curb in front of the house, stoically silent, and clearly not intending to engage in the conversation. He walked around to open her door for her, and helped her out of the car.

“I suppose I could have told her she has nothing to fear,” Rosie said, “but that’s really your job, isn’t it?”

She arched up and kissed him on the cheek, then turned toward the house.


	9. Self-Reflection is Overrated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne decides she's had enough time inside her own head and takes action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter that I didn't want to just tack on to another - so my story will now be 11 chapters long instead of 10.

It was well into the afternoon by the time Phryne looked up from her spot at the window. Her self-reflection had not left her feeling proud of her actions, but she wasn’t about to take all the blame herself. There was plenty to pass around. First of all, there was Jack, with his smoldering gaze and enigmatic manner. He left her dizzy and confused. How was a girl to know what he was thinking half the time?

Then there was Rosie. Well, no. None of this was really her fault. Even if the woman was hoping to begin anew with Jack, Phryne couldn’t really blame her.

She did include her own father in on the blame, though, for instilling an instinctive distrust in her, and a need to be wholly self-reliant. He’d taught her never to need anyone, and she didn’t, but that didn’t stop her from allowing people in her life that she could rely on. She had Dot, and Mac, Mr. Butler and Jack.

It all came back to Jack. He was the one driving her to this madness and sitting around pondering things was getting her nowhere.

 

* * *

 

“Miss Fisher,” he said, in his long suffering manner, when Collins put the call through, “I really am very busy.”

“Yes,” she said. “You’re extremely busy these days Jack, both professionally and socially. I’ll be brief.”

She was clipped and businesslike, her tone not at all contrite, as he’d been expecting when Collins told him she was calling.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“I know I behaved badly,” she said, “but I’m done apologizing. And, I don’t intend to take all responsibility. You said today, that you had let me know your feelings and that I had, in turn, told you I was uninterested, which of course resulted in your nobly agreeing to ‘respect’ my decision. What I’d like to know, Jack, is when did this enlightening conversation take place? Was I actually present for it?”

“Phryne, I..”

“Let me finish,” she said. “I don’t recall your stating any definitive intentions toward me, and I certainly didn’t make my feelings clear to you.”

“Give me some credit. I think, after all this time, I’ve come to understand you a little bit,” he said, with a slightly condescending tone that irked her. “I understood what you were trying to say.”

“Well, that’s remarkable Jack. Because even I don’t know what I was trying to say, or when I am suppose to have said it!”

There was a long pause on the line. She heard some papers rustling on his end and could picture him at his desk, buried in paperwork, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He sighed, heavily.

“You’re making my head spin. And I really can’t do this now,” he said quietly.

“I know that," she said gently. "What time are you through?”

“I don’t know. There’s so much to be done. Maybe seven?”

“I’ll expect you at quarter past,” she said. “Seven-thirty at the latest, or I can’t guarantee dinner will be warm.”

She rang off without waiting for his reply. He sat listening to the dead line for a long moment before hanging up the phone, a large smile spreading across his face.

“Collins!” he called. “Where is that last witness statement? I want to get out of here at a decent time tonight.”


	10. One Step Forward?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack comes to dinner and the detectives have an honest conversation, eventually.

Jack wasn’t entirely sure what she had in mind with her invitation, or rather, demand, but he wanted to find out. Her reason for visiting Rosie baffled him. Rosie’s take on the situation seemed unlikely. Phryne wasn’t the jealous type and given the way she’d dismissed his attempts to woo her, he couldn’t imagine why she’d be jealous anyway.

Phryne had always been a bit of an enigma. Her reasons for doing things often left him scratching his head, but she usually got the outcome she desired, even when acting impetuously. This time, he couldn’t imagine what outcome she’d been hoping for, but from the scene he’d happened upon, it didn’t look like she’d got it.

It was a little disingenuous of her to claim she hadn’t been party to any conversation. There may not have been actual words said, but actions, on both their parts, had spoken volumes, he thought.

Was she pretending ignorance to save him the embarrassment of her rejection, hoping they could get past the events of the last few days and return to the way they’d been before? At this point, he thought he might be fine with that. The confusion and unease of recent days was exhausting, and he missed her.

He tried not to appear too eager to see her. He stayed at his desk as long as he could bear it, but it was just twenty minutes past the hour when he knocked at her door.

Mr. Butler greeted him, taking his coat and hat and sending him into the parlour without announcing him. Phryne sat casually flipping through a magazine. She waited a beat, leaving him standing awkwardly for a moment before looking up.

“Jack!” she cried, as though his appearance was a lovely surprise, and had not been requested by her.

“I trust I’m on time, Miss Fisher,” he said.

“You are indeed Inspector,” Mr. Butler said, entering the room with a tray and offering him a cocktail. Clearly the butler had been expecting him. “Dinner will be ready soon, miss,” he said, offering the other glass to Phryne before leaving the room again, and closing the doors behind him.

“Do sit down Jack,” Phryne said. “Don’t stand there looking so uncomfortable, you’re making me nervous.”

“I didn’t realize you got nervous,” he said, suddenly feeling lighter. She was always so in control, it was nice to think he might unnerve her a little. He sat in the chair opposite, crossing his legs with nonchalance and took a sip of the drink. It a delicious concoction of gin and lemon and possibly a hint of honey. Mr. Butler was a wizard with cocktails.

They conversed in an aimless manner about everything and nothing at all. She asked about the fallout from the case. He asked after Jane, and how she was fairing. It was nice to be back by her side. It seemed longer than just a few days, and they both began to breathe a bit easier as they returned to the familiar routine. Mr. Butler appeared with fresh cocktails the moment their glasses were emptied.

Halfway through the second cocktail, Phryne was quite relaxed, thinking that things were going better than she might have expected. They seemed to have fallen right back into comfortable habits. Perhaps they might be able to move past the awkwardness of the last few days, most of it her fault, she had to admit, and get back to the way things had been before.

She’d invited him here planning to explain her erratic behavior, but maybe this was better. This was familiar and safe, if a bit cowardly.

“So, Miss Fisher, was there a reason you commanded my presence this evening?” Jack asked.

“Command sounds so imperious, Jack. I thought my invitation was generous. I know how hard you’ve been working, and wanted to make sure you’re eating properly,” she said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

His head tilted slightly to one side. He could simply shrug and let inertia take them back to the status quo, but something in him wouldn’t let go of his need to know what she was really thinking and where they’d gotten their wires crossed.

“You were just concerned about my eating habits? It seemed you had more on your mind when you called,” he said, raising a questioning eyebrow.

She sat back, narrowing her eyes at him and took another sip of her drink. Apparently they weren’t going to sweep things under the rug this time.

“Dinner is ready, miss,” Mr. Butler said, appearing in the doorway like an angel to rescue her.

“Perfect timing, Mr. B,” she said. “Shall we Jack?”

He stood and offered his arm and they moved together to the dining room. He pulled out a chair for her.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, sitting across from her and watching her face for a reaction.

“What question is that?”

“Why am I here, Phryne?”

She shook out her napkin and took great care placing it on her lap, smoothing it out and waiting silently until Mr. Butler had served the meal and departed the room.

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” she said.

“I’m not entirely sure what ‘this’ is,” he said, tucking into his plate. It really looked delicious. Mr. Butler’s cooking was unparalleled.

She smiled. Watching him eat was one of her favorite things to do.

“See, I knew you weren’t eating properly. Is this the first meal you’ve had all day?”

“I had some toast this morning, and you’re changing the subject,” he said, looking up from his plate to find her gazing at him with an expression of such open affection his heart stuttered.

“Toast!” she scoffed, smiling indulgently. “Eat your dinner Jack. We’ve plenty of time to talk.”

He set his fork down and looked into her eyes.

“Phryne, did you really not understand why I came here the other night?” he said.

She paused. There was no point in trying any longer to deny this.

“I understood,” she said.

“I thought you had,” he said.

“You nearly kissed me,” she said, “And not in the line of duty,” she added archly

“No, my motives were purely selfish. Was it unwelcome?”

“No, it was entirely welcome Jack, more so than I could have imagined.”

“And the next night? Was I right in assuming you were trying to let me down easy?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “That had more to do with me than you, I believe. I care for you Jack and I value our friendship, but I’m not good at sticking. I saw you with Rosie and it reminded me of the man you are and the kind of life you want.”

“That was later that you saw me with Rosie. The following day,” he said.

“Well then too, but I saw you that next morning. I was out for a walk...oh hang it, I was coming to see you. I had no excuse for the visit, no reason. I just wanted to see you, and you were leaving the station with Rosie.”

“But why should that bother you?”

“She’s your wife,” she said.

“Ex-wife.”

“Yes, but at one time, you wanted to spend your life with her.”

“My marriage was over a long time ago. I don’t see what Rosie has to do with anything.”

“You know who I am, Jack, and what I can and cannot offer you,” she said. “I saw you with her and thought that maybe this was not such a good idea, that we want different things, and you’d be better off with someone like Rosie in your life.”

“I wasn’t actually planning to propose to you, Phryne,” he said.

“Of course not, but you must have had some expectation. What were you thinking?”

He took another bite of the meal, if for no other reason than to buy himself some time to consider his answer, because what he’d been thinking would likely frighten her.

He’d been thinking that he longed for her. That she ran through his mind all day and into his dreams at night. That he’d wake reaching out for her, and his arms ached with the emptiness. That he lost himself in her eyes and her lips drove him to distraction. That he wanted to sit at her side and let the day fall away. That he wanted to know what it felt like to kiss her.

“I was thinking that I wanted to see you,” he said. “I hadn’t really thought much further than that. I did hope that perhaps we could be more to each other, but I understood your feelings, and I would have respected them. What I don’t understand is what happened next, and how you ended up at Rosie's door.”

“That may not have been my best idea,” she said. “Is she very upset with me?”

“She has other things on her mind, but she had some interesting theories as to why you came,” he said, tucking back into his meal. It'd be a shame to let it grow cold.

“Oh? Such as?” she asked, with trepidation.

“I’d rather hear your reasons,” he said.

“I told you, I thought she might be better suited, and if there was a chance of reconciliation, I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“A reconciliation? Rosie and I? How could you think that? I came to _you_ ,” he said.

“You looked so comfortable together, and you loved each other once. If she loved you still, if she could make you happy, then that is what I’d want for you,” she said.

“And that’s what you went to tell her?” he said, pushing the food around his plate, not the least bit interested in it anymore. She hadn’t gone because she was ‘invested’ as Rosie had said. She’d gone to tell Rosie she could have him. Not that Rosie wanted him. Apparently nobody did.

“I see. So, you not only wanted to let me down easy, but you thought you’d play matchmaker as well, Miss Fisher?” he said, coldly.

“I’m Miss Fisher again? Don’t be upset, Jack,” she said.

“Thank you for the dinner, I’ll show myself out,” He pushed himself away from the table and stood.

“Jack!” she said, standing and nearly chasing him out into the hall. Those long legs of his carried him quickly when he wanted them to. “Where are you going?”

She threw her back against the door, effectively blocking his exit. None of this had gone the way she’d hoped.

“It’s all right. You’ve cleared up any misunderstanding I might have had,” he said. “I’m a grown man. I’ll get over it.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said.

He stood stock still for a moment, his hand hovering over his coat, still hanging on the rack.

In two swift steps he was on her, his body pressing her against the door, his mouth hard on her’s, desperate and passionate. She reached for him, tangling her hands up into his hair and holding him to her, welcoming his kiss. His hands were on the door above her head and she desperately wanted him to touch her, to hold her. She pushed back against him until she came off the door enough for him to wrap his arms around her and pull her hard to him.

When they finally parted, he rested his forehead against her’s, breathing rapidly.

“That,” he said. “That is what I came for, Phryne. What I’ve wanted to do for months now.”

“Come upstairs, Jack,” she said.

“No,” he said, taking a step away from her, but keeping his hands firmly on her hips. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

“I suppose not,” she said, reaching up to stoke his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. God, he was beautiful. “Why isn’t it wise?” she whined.

He laughed.

“Really, Jack. It’s where we were heading the other night, if we hadn’t been interrupted. Isn’t it?”

“Most likely,” he admitted. “But perhaps that would have been premature. You’ve made some good points about how differently we go about these things.”

“Don’t listen to me,” she said. “I rarely know what I’m talking about.”

He took her hand, easily interlacing his fingers with hers.

“But you do. You’re very clever. You’re wise enough to know that I wouldn’t be happy with just one night with you.”

“If that’s what’s worrying you, that’s not even possible anymore, Jack,” she said. “You are too much a part of my life now. I don’t think we can simply scratch that itch and then move on.”

“It’s not an _‘itch’_ Phryne,” he said. “I want to be with you, but I want more. I want something ongoing.”

“First of all, our relationship is ‘ongoing’ Inspector, and going to bed wouldn’t end it. At least I would hope not. As to my liaisons, they are not always singular encounters. I have made exceptions,” she said. “I think it could be different with you.”

“But it wouldn’t be an exclusive arrangement, would it?”

“I can’t make any guarantees,” she admitted. She cared for him more than any man she could remember, but she was in no way ready to pledge herself to him. Besides, history showed she had a tendency to act without regard to consequence. She couldn’t make a promise of fidelity.

“And I don’t know how I’d react to that,” he said. “I’d try to keep an open mind, but I have the feeling I’d be the jealous type.”

“So, what do we do now?” she said. “How do we proceed? I think there is something here worth exploring.”

“There is plenty here I’d like to explore,” he said cheekily.

She looked up at him, her eyes playful.

“That’s promising,” she said.

“But, considering the unknowns, perhaps it’s better if we remain as we are? We do work well together and I enjoy your company. I wouldn’t want to lose that entirely.”

“Neither would I,” she said. “There’s the rub. We’ve gone and become friends, and I don’t want to lose that, but I do want you. I think we could have both.”

He was trying to remain calm and rational, and think this through, but the taste of her was still on his lips and it was beyond distracting. That she kept saying she wanted him wasn’t helping either.

She wanted him. He loved her. Could he simply join the list of men she had dalliances with? They could have the friendship, the investigations, and the nightcaps could occasionally end in bed. Would that be enough? His desire for her was battling with his fear of being crushed.

He was looking at her again with that expression that made her weak at the knees. She laughed suddenly.

“Don’t look at me that way, if you hope to get home alive. As the song goes,” she said.

“What song?”

“Never mind, shall we go to the parlor? We could talk some more?”

Talk more, kiss more. She didn’t want to let him go because she thought they’d lose ground if he left. He’d been ready to come to her after the emotional upheaval of the other night, but now he was thinking more clearly. Thinking too much, as he tended to do.

“It might be best if I skip the nightcap tonight,” he said, “I don’t trust myself.”

“Please stay, or have you already made up your mind?”

“Not remotely,” he said. “But, I’m not going to be able to think rationally with you so close. I don’t think you realize the effect you have on me. Can we talk tomorrow?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow to accompany Aunt P. while she sorts out some business. We’re turning it into a little Christmas in July celebration,” she said. It was terrible timing. She feared a few days apart would be the end of everything. The walls would come back up. His instinct for self preservation was nearly as fierce as her need to be free.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Just a few days.”

A few days, he thought. More than enough time for her to come to her senses. This might be the end of everything, but if her desire for him turned out to be so fleeting, it was probably for the best anyway.

“We’ll talk when you’re back then?” he said.

“Of course,” she said.

She helped him with his coat then took his hat and set it on top of his head, smiling up in such an adoring manner his resolve to leave nearly crumbled. He bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Her body swayed toward his and he wanted to pull her to him and kiss her again, but if he did, he’d never let go. He pulled away.

“Good night Phryne,” he said. “Have a safe trip.”

“Good night Jack. I’ll see you when I get back,” she said.

“Of course,” he said.

As he headed down the path, she had a fleeting thought.

"Jack," she called, he turned back to her. "Why did Rosie say I'd come?"

"She thought that you were staking a claim, so to speak."

"Wise woman, your ex-wife," she said, giving him her most seductive glance before closing the door. That would give him something to think about.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough chapter for me to write. I thought I knew what I wanted to say, but it kept changing on me, and knowing where we were headed next influenced me more than I wanted it to. 
> 
> I always think that a lot of their issues come from Jack overthinking things, and Phryne assuming he understands her thoughts better than he does. 
> 
> I hope this is somewhat satisfying and keeps you wanting to know what happens next! Thanks for sticking with me.


	11. A Promising Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is impatient and goes looking for Phryne. They come to a decision to move their budding romance forward amidst a very odd murder investigation.

Constable Hugh Collins was at least grateful for the Inspector’s good mood today, even if his own was not as cheerful. They’d been putting in long hours of late. The last few days had seen the Inspector harried and irritable. There’d been an enormous amount of phone calls. Several from the Chief Superintendent, and even the Chief Commissioner once. (That one had Hugh quite flustered.) He’d heard the Inspector repeat the same information over and over again, mostly patiently, but he knew all the scrutiny was taking its toll. There had barely been a minute for breaks, and Hugh had worked well past his designated shift most nights.

He wouldn’t leave his post before the Inspector left for the night, and DI Robinson’s stamina was legendary. No one worked longer hours. Sometimes Hugh wished he’d settled on a less stalwart mentor, but Jack Robinson was the best, and you couldn’t go wrong learning from the best.

As of yesterday, it seemed thing were finally easing up. The phone calls had slowed. Inspector Robinson had given strict orders not to speak to the press, so those calls could be gotten rid of with a quick ‘no comment’, and thankfully, there had been no new major crimes.

Last night, the Inspector had announced he wanted to leave at a decent hour, still an hour and a half past the end of shift, but early enough that Hugh had been able to spend some time with his sweetheart. He’d been hoping for that trend to continue, and the Inspector’s current mood boded well for shorter hours. The problem was, now Dotty’s employer, Miss Fisher, had whisked her off to some house in the Alps, so even if he got the time, he couldn’t see her. He’d been in a bit of a funk about it all day.

He was pulled from his thoughts by an unfamiliar sound. He stepped away from the desk, closer to the Inspector’s office, and was gobsmacked. Inspector Robinson was humming. A rather cheerful tune at that. It gave Hugh the notion that the Inspector might have a pleasant singing voice. Not too surprising really. His rather resonant voice had gotten him an undercover assignment as as radio announcer, after all. But the humming. The humming was new.

“Collins!”

The shout had Hugh scrambling back behind the desk.

“Yes sir?”

“Did you send on that report yet?” Jack said, coming out from his office.

“About an hour ago, sir. Why? Did you need it?”

“No, probably not. I just thought I’d look it over one last time if it was still here.”

“You checked it several times before having me send it, sir. I’m sure there was nothing you missed.”

“You’re probably right. I guess I’m just at loose ends. It’s rather quiet here today, isn’t it?”

“Compared to recent days, yes. Very quiet sir,” Hugh said.

Jack wandered back into his office looking for something to occupy his mind. Or, rather something to distract him from what was currently occupying his mind. Surprisingly, he’d fallen asleep fairly easily last night. He’d thought he’d be up for hours, pondering his choices, but it seemed there wasn’t really much of a choice after all.

He knew what he wanted. He would pursue her. As for the other men, well, he was already envious of them, he didn’t see how this would make it any worse. She’d never be callous with his feelings. She was discreet, and wouldn’t throw them in his face, and maybe there’d come a time when she didn’t feel the need for other men anymore.

That last thought was a dangerous one. She’d told him who she was, and he couldn’t go into this hoping she’d change for him. He couldn’t alter himself too much for her either, but he could make some small adjustments, if she’d meet him half way. This wasn’t about falling into bed with her, and if that was all she was interested in, it would never work anyway, but she had indicated that she was open to something more. Something ongoing.

It had been a long time since he’d courted a woman. The world was different now, and he was a liberal minded man, he was sure he could be more modern, for her. Now, she just needed to get home, so he could see her again.

He heard the phone ringing and stepped from his office, hoping it would be something to take his mind off Phryne.

“Dotty!” Collins said happily.

No luck then, thought Jack, it was clearly a personal call, coming from Hugh’s sweetheart, but Jack lingered anyway. He picked up a clipboard, pretending to look it over. He knew wherever Miss Williams was, Phryne was too, and he hoped to catch a bit of news about her, and when she might be back.

“Murder? Miss Fisher’s always right,” Hugh said.

Jack dropped all pretense and leaned in the doorway listening. His heart rate had increased when he heard the words ‘murder’ and ‘Miss Fisher’, not that it was unusual to hear those spoken together, but he wanted to know she was safe. He stepped forward as Hugh ended the call.

“What was that all about?” Jack asked.

“Miss Fisher’s gone on holiday again, sir.”

“Oh. Anyone dead yet?"

“Only one so far, sir.”

“Where did you say she was?”

“They’re in the alps sir, at a lodge near some mines Mrs. Stanley’s husband used to own.”

“Well, sounds like they’re having an interesting time,” Jack said, turning back to his office.

“Sir,” Collins said. “Do you think there’s any cause for concern? Miss Fisher seems to think the dead man was murdered.”

“Miss Fisher thinks every death is suspicious. Was Miss William’s worried?”

While Jack trusted Phryne’s instincts, and she was more often right than wrong, she did tend to suspect foul play around every corner. Miss Williams, on the other hand, had a very sensible head on her shoulders. She might appear meek and mild, but since living with Miss Fisher she’d become rather formidable in her own right. She didn’t scare easily.

“Dotty did say that there was something strange about the place. She said it scared her.”

“And what’s being done to look into the death?”

“Nothing sir. Apparently they’ve put the body in the cold storage room and no one is terribly worried about it. Except Miss Fisher.”

“Except Miss Fisher,” Jack repeated. “Of course. Well, Collins, if she needs our assistance, I’m sure we will be hearing from her.”

“Yes, sir,” Hugh said, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his Dotty might be in danger, and so far away that there was nothing he could do about it.

Jack sat down at his desk. He drummed his fingers absently over the surface, which was unusually clear of paperwork. He stood again and went to his files, thinking he’d pull out an unsolved crime and give it another go over. It was one from early in his career, and he hadn’t been the lead on the case. An heirloom piece of jewelry had gone missing. Jack suspected the son, but could never prove it. The original owner was long dead now, so it hardly mattered, but once in awhile, he went over it again, to see if there was something he’d missed. He had it half-way out, when he slipped it back in and slammed the drawer shut.

“Collins,” he said, strolling casually to the front desk to find Hugh bent over a map. “How concerned did Miss Williams sound?”

In less than an hour, Jack and Hugh were well on their way. They’d been near to the end of shift anyway and Jack had left his Senior Sergeant in charge for the remaining hour. They’d both stopped home to pack a small case, and change into clothing more appropriate for weather in the Alps, then headed out.

The lodge was not far from Jamieson, and nearly four hours drive from Melbourne, if one paid attention to speed limits. Phryne undoubtedly made it in much less. The further they went, the worse the weather became, and for awhile, Jack feared they may not make it before the roads were closed. It was quite dark when they arrived. He hoped he hadn’t been presumptuous in making the trip and that Phryne wouldn’t think he was interfering. If she did, he’d just point out the many times she’d pushed her way into one of his investigations, and tell her that turn about was fair play.

The wind was howling like a son of a bitch and it was freezing when he banged the iron knocker on the large wooden door. He hoped the enormous lodge was warmer than it appeared.

Phryne stood over another dead body. This death was most definitely a murder. A strange and overly elaborate murder. She wished Jack were here, but that was silly, surely she could handle this on her own. A loud banging on the front door made her jump. Who would be out in this weather? She rushed to the door, pushing it open. For a moment she wondered if she was imagining things. He looked different, but it was him. Wasn’t it?

“Jack,” she said. “Nice of you to drop by.”

 

* * *

 

“Not even here a full day and two dead bodies already, Miss Fisher,” Jack said.

They were alone in the cold storage room where the bodies had been placed and she’d just finished walking him through the known facts.

“Hardly a record, Inspector,” she said.

She looked him over. It was a rare occasion that she saw him in anything other than the three piece suits he usually wore. He looked so unlike her Detective Inspector, but still familiar. The heavy knit jumper and tweed jacket made his chest appear even broader and his hair was slightly less controlled, an unruly wave cresting over his forehead and begging her to run her hands through it.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon, Jack. Tell me, how is it you come to be here?” she asked.

“Collins spoke to Miss Williams earlier, and he was concerned for her.”

“That might explain why Hugh is here,” she said, taking a small step closer. “Was there a reason you needed to accompany him?”

“Hugh had never driven mountain roads before and they can be treacherous this time of year,” he said, his voice dropping to a deep, breathy rumble. “I hope you’re not sorry to see me.”

“Not at all. I just wouldn’t like to think you’ve come out of some misguided desire to rescue me,” she said.

“Of all my desires, rescuing you is rather far down on the list. You so rarely need it.”

“Good answer, Jack,” she said.

Her hand curled around the collar of his jacket, drawing him closer. He came without resistance. She could feel his warm breath on her face. Her eyes began to drift shut in anticipation.

*ahem*

They pulled apart and turned to find Dr. MacMillan leaning in the doorway, the look on her face hovering between incredulous and amused.

“Mrs. Stanley is looking for you, Inspector. They’ve got a room ready for you,” Mac said.

“Thank you Dr. Macmillan,” Jack said, tossing a regretful look at Phryne. “I’ll go see her now.”

He turned for the door and Phryne made to follow. Mac grabbed her arm, holding her back.

“I’m sure the Inspector can unpack his own case, Phryne,” she said. She stepped into the room, surveying the two dead bodies. “Interesting choice of locale for a pash. The bodies in the morgue generally put me off romance.”

“What are the odds Aunt P.’s found him a room near mine?” Phryne said, ignoring Mac's inference.

“Slim to none, darling,” Mac said. “I’d ask what he’s doing here, but under current circumstances, I’m rather glad to see him. And, in case I should forget later, remind me never to vacation with you again.”

A short time later, when the lights went out, and there was no hope of restoring them before morning, it was decided all should retire to their rooms. After seeing that everyone was shut in, Jack accompanied Phryne to her door.

“I am glad you’re here, Jack. But I had hoped the next time we saw each other it would be under less murderous conditions,” Phryne said, linking her arm through his. He chanced a glance to his side. In the candle light, her skin was even more iridescently lovely and her eyes sparkled in the warm glow.

“What fun would that have been, Miss Fisher,” he said.

“I can think of plenty of ways to have fun that don’t involve dead bodies and murder investigations,” she said, giving his arm a little squeeze.

They reached her door and she turned to face him. He stayed near. She didn’t object to his proximity, leaning ever closer.

“I’d like to explore those options with you some time, but sadly, not tonight,” he said.

“Can I take that to mean you’ve given our situation some thought, Jack?”

“I’ve barely thought of anything else,” he said, “which is a bit ridiculous, given recent events.”

“Have you come to a decision?”

“It’s not all my decision, is it Phryne? We’d be in this together, wouldn’t we?”

“It’d be rather unsatisfying any other way,” she agreed. “But, you’re the one that must decide if it’s enough for you. I know what I want.”

“It’s not just about the physical though, is it? You do understand that I want more than that.”

“Yes, of course. So do I. But I can’t make you any promises of commitment, and I’m hoping that’s not too much of a sticking point for you,” she said.

“I think I can live with that. Life holds no guarantees. As long as it’s not blatant, Phryne,” he said.

“I’d never humiliate you, Jack,” she said.

“I believe that,” he said. He bent closer and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, pulling away before it went too far. Her eyes remained shut for a moment, a blissful smile on her lips.

“I don’t want anyone taking chances. Lock your door,” he said.

“But Jack, if I lock my door, _nobody_ could get in,” she said, smiling mischievously up at him.

Damn, she was tempting, but he wanted to do this right. To show her they could be more than just lovers.

“It’s too great a risk, Miss Fisher,” he said. “Lock it tight. Good night.”

He waited until she’d closed the door and he heard the bolt slide into place. He laid his palm flat against the cold, wood slab. He swore he could feel her heat radiating through it. “Sleep well, my love,” he whispered.

The next day, Jack had reason to regret refusing her invitation. There was an attempt on Mrs. Stanley’s life, Mac defied the order to stay inside, causing Phryne to fear for her. They’d found her injured, but alive out in the cold, and then, despite the house being locked up tight, there was another murder.

Phryne and Jack had very little time alone until they found themselves wandering the tunnels below the house seeking the hiding place of their suspect. Jack noticed the furry white ball hanging from Phryne’s wrist.

“Hip flask?” he asked, in disbelief.

“Refreshments,” she said by way of explanation, leaving him shaking his head. She never took things seriously enough, but she did make things much more fun.

“Stay close,” he said as she began to wander off down another corridor.

“Is that an order, Inspector or are you just scared?”

“Only of you,” he said, not entirely in jest.

“Promise me, that once we’ve found our killer and ended this reign of terror, you and I will find some uninterrupted time together, in a more pleasant setting,” Phryne said

“What makes you so sure we’ll catch our killer?” he teased.

“It’s what we do best, Jack. At least, it is until we expand our repertoire,” she said. “So where shall we begin, Inspector? Dinner at my home as soon as all this is over?”

“Sounds lovely,” he said, wondering how many first dates had been casually arranged while pursuing an elusive, and oddly creative, killer.

 

* * *

Heartless, cruel, and most definitely psychopathic had been added to the killer’s descriptives when all was said and done. Jack returned to Phryne’s home not for the promised intimate dinner, but a family celebration. A belated Christmas in July to take place of the one spoiled by greed and murder.

He leaned comfortably against the piano, happily watching her swirl about the place. She loomed so large one would think she’d eat up all the oxygen in the room, but rather than extinguishing the fire inside him, she enflamed it further.

Knowing, as he did tonight, that his feelings were returned, instilled a new confidence in him. He didn’t shy away from looking at her with affection. When she came to stand at his side, settling in close, his arm resting on the piano behind her, he allowed his thumb to brush along her back, his blood stirring when she leaned into his touch.

Jane’s attempt to coerce a kiss under the mistletoe was unsurprisingly thwarted by Mrs. Stanley. It was just as well. He might not have been able to resist the urge to kiss Phryne good and thoroughly. He was fairly sure no one else would’ve minded, but Mrs. Stanley would have been truly appalled.

His world felt very right, and he marveled at how he’d got here. Not long ago, he’d been settling into a determinedly singular existence. He was ashamed at his failure to hold his marriage together, but hadn’t thought himself too terribly sad or lonely. He had his home and his books, his work and a few good friends. It wasn’t until she came along that he realized how little fun he was having, and how much he missed it.

There was something very fulfilling about letting people share in your life, and sharing in their lives as well. He was honored that she’d included him in the little circle of adopted family she surrounded herself with, and regardless of how things turned out for them, he hoped to stay a part of that circle.

When, exactly, he’d fallen in love with her, he couldn’t say. He suspected it had begun fairly early on. She was beautiful, to be sure, but she was so much more than that. She was lively, intelligent, generous, unpredictable and fiercely independent, and he wouldn’t want her any other way.

He hung back in the parlor as the other guests departed, hoping for a moment or two alone with her. Before long, she joined him, blowing into the room like a summer breeze and floating to his side.

“Jack!” she breathed, “at last.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he placed his firmly on her hips.

“You look beautiful tonight, Phryne,” he said. She was all in gold, shimmering from head to toe.

“Thank you,” she said. “You look quite tempting yourself.”

“But not tempting enough to compel your kiss, apparently,”

“You don’t need the assistance of greenery, _hemiparasitic_ , or otherwise, Jack.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, caressing it briefly before winding around to cradle the back of her head and turn her lips up to his.

“There you are Phryne!” Aunt P. bustled into the room.

Phryne’s eyes rolled so far into the back of her head, Jack couldn’t help but laugh. They disentangled themselves. A bit slower than satisfied Mrs. Stanley, if her indignant huffing was any indication.

“I thought she’d gone,” Phryne whispered through clenched teeth.

“I was in the kitchen, having Mr. Butler wrap up some of those wonderful biscuits of his, and Albert and Cecil seem to have left without me,” Aunt P. sniffed. “I’m so glad you’re still here Inspector. If I could trouble you for a ride home.”

Jack could hardly refuse. Besides, it hadn’t really been a request, so much as a demand.

“Of course, Mrs. Stanley. I’d be happy to,” Jack lied.

“I’ll await you by the door. Don’t be long,” she said, eyeing Phryne significantly before nodding imperiously and waddling from the room.

“And tomorrow, I’ll kill Bert and Cec,” Phryne said.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he said. “The cells at the station are very unromantic and hardly private. Cold too.”

“I get your point, Inspector,” she said. “But if I find out she paid them to leave her behind, all bets are off, and you’ll never find the bodies.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

“Well then” she said, brushing her hands over his chest and sighing, “What do you say to dinner? Here. Tomorrow. I’ll see to it that we are not disturbed.”

“I look forward to it,” he raised her hand to his lips for a chaste kiss. “Until tomorrow then. Good night, Phryne.”

“Good night Jack. Until tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably could've edited this one a little longer, but wanted to get it posted! I hope everyone is satisfied with my ending. I'm not very good at replying to comments. I never know what to say, but thank you so much! I really do appreciate all of them and love reading them! 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this and letting me know you enjoyed it.


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